


Butterflies and Blooms

by maxsaystowrite



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bois being soft for three chapters, Canon Asexual Character, M/M, eating disorder mention, jonmartin, oops one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21523069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxsaystowrite/pseuds/maxsaystowrite
Summary: The train ride to Scotland was long and drowsy. Fresh air and freedom really does something to you when you haven't had either in so long.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 9
Kudos: 258





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot the good cows... Sorry folks, they were just too sleepy.

Scotland was different for both of them. Jon's stomach was uneasy and weak again like it had been in America. Of course, now he knew what it was, but that didn't mean he didn't need a monster Dramamine. He'd take out smaller statements on the train and read them out to Martin and only Martin. He'd whisper the tale of some other poor soul who had the displeasure of meeting an entity of some sort. Jon would make some little comment about the type of fear they used to have. Martin would murmur under his breath, trying to contribute, pretending that he didn't fall asleep.

It was all easy for Martin. Leaving the institute hurt, of course, it did, but it was an easy pain to deal with. The ride to Scotland was good for him. He couldn't remember the last time he slept. He was knocked out almost completely. The ride could have been months or just three short minutes. He couldn't tell. All he knew was that he was on a train to Scotland, Jon was talking to him softly, and Jon's arm was wrapped tightly around him and has been and will be. 

When they got off the train, Scotland looked like a painting. The greens of the soft fields bled into each other. The depth of the blue mountains poked out in the middle of it all. There were cows right by the train station, grazing as if they weren't there. 

"Well, this is certainly … it's quainter than I ever expected of Daisy." Jon said. 

"What better place to hide than somewhere unexpected?" Martin asked. 

"I suppose you're right," Jon said still staring into the long stretch of garden. He was shaking slightly, fingers twitching and eyes squinting at the bright light. 

Martin looked at his compass, then slipped his hand into Jon's, pulling at his arm. "Come on then, you said northeast, yeah? The safe house is this way."

They walked on a dirt road, gravel crunching under their feet. They walked along this path with their map open. The Scottish air filled their lungs and cooled their cheeks. Jon could feel the clean and fresh air in his throat. With every exhale, he felt cleaner than he had in months. That was the thing about being cooped up, about being trapped, you get used to it. You never know how old the air is around you. You never know how much you crave something different until you finally get to feel your freedom again. Feeling freedom for the first time is enough to knock the wind out of someone. 

It was in front of the safe house, the  _ cottage _ that Jon collapsed. His knees buckled at the sight of the picture-perfect cabin. There was a flower garden that wrapped around the house, with a small fence and butterflies flew around the blooms, a mailbox that had never been used. His lungs gasped for more of the cold crisp air and his hands gripped onto Martin as he fell, trying to keep himself up, trying to hold onto him for dear life. 

"Christ, Jon!" Martin grasped Jon's hands and tried to pull on them, tried to get him up on his feet but he was too weak to stand. So Martin took a knee next to him and every possibility ran through his head. Every bad thought he had ever had regarding Jon, regarding their leaving was suddenly surfacing and running through his head. 

_ What if he's sick? What if he dies out here? What if statements aren't enough? What if he hates it Here? What if he hates me here with him? What if he didn't want me to come along? What if he just collapsed at the thought of being alone with me in this tiny cottage? What If- _

Jon was breathing heavy and gripping him harder. "Jon… are you going to be alright here?"

And through his hyperventilating, Jon looked up at Martin and smiled. Toothy and crooked. "There's nowhere else I rather be." The way that Jon looked at him made him blush, his face burning bright. 

"Me too." Martin took hold of Jon's waist and hauled him up, making sure there was no pressure on his feet. Jon didn’t need to walk through the threshold. Martin carried him through the garden and through the doorway. 

The inside was just as perfect as the outside. A small living area, a small kitchen, a small dining nook. The bedroom was barely big enough to fit the full-sized bed, the nightstand, and the dresser. And that was it. At least at first glance. But they were both too tired to go looking for Daisy's secrets. Instead, Martin brought them to the bed. 

He laid Jon down in the bed, letting it squeak horrendously under his weight. Jon was in a daze, still weak from his fall. Martin smiled looking at him. So soft and tired in the warm glow of the setting sun. He turned then, he had decided, on his own, that he would take the couch. Until Jon's hand sprang up and wouldn't let go. Jon said nothing as he pulled Martin’s sleeve. A silent  _ "Come here".  _ A command, a want, a desire so deeply felt that it didn't need words. 

Sparks washed over Martin's whole body. His skin was ablaze with a tingling he only got when Jon would look at him for too long or when he'd compliment his work. Martin took his jacket off then, he didn't want to get too hot. He crawled onto the bed then, nudging himself into Jon's arms, burying his face into Jon's neck. He still smelled like old books and lemon tea but it smelled even better up close. Martin was bigger than Jon width-wise, but Jon held him like he was holding the whole world in his arms. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want his world to float away. 

There was no room for worry in that small cottage. There was no room for paranoia. And perhaps that's where they went wrong, that’s where they made their worst decision. They decided that the eye couldn't possibly see them There. In their cottage in the highlands of Scotland they were alone together and invisible. The fears couldn't get to them. The night was softer here with the stars to protect them. The days were cleared with no alleys for shadows to hide in. 

  
_ We could be alright this way…  _ Jon thought before drifting off.  _ For forever... _


	2. The Day After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were sleepy yesterday... They can explore a little today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know there was going to be a chapter two but here we are!

Jon woke up with empty arms and cold. There was a sudden panic within him, that it was all fake and he was back in London in his little flat aching to go over the hurdles he thought he had in his dreams. 

And then he heard whistling, which brought him back to the present and out of his anxiety. A high, cheery whistle from the other side of the robin's egg blue walls. Then he smelled the pillowcase under him, it smelled old but not dirty. Just unused. Jon blinked into his body and slowly sitting up, trying to hear more, smell more. He heard sizzling through the wall. He smelled bacon.

His bones creaked almost as loud as the bed frame. A horrendous squeaking noise from the old metal joints of the frame and the tired bones of the Archivist. Jon was sure he was heard. But the whistling persisted and he continued towards it. 

Everything in this house creaked, including the door as Jon opened it and the floors as he walked on them. The cold hardwood of the bedroom filled the entire house, even into the kitchen. That's where Jon found Martin. He wasn't dressed, not really, just in underwear and an undershirt. He was singing now instead of whistling. His voice soft, unimposing, barely louder than a whisper. 

_ "And with their gold, be generous. All a-flashing in the pan, all to fashion for your hand _

_ The river's gonna give us the wedding bands." _

Jon never knew Martin was a musical fan. A twinge of excitement filled him. There was no time before, to learn that Martin liked musicals, or that he sang so sweet. There's time now, though. 

Martin nearly jumped as he felt Jon's arms snake up from behind, wrapping completely under his arms. He felt like he was wearing him like a backpack. Jon squeezed Martin close and put his head on his back. Jon liked the feeling of Martin on his chest. He liked the weight on him. 

"Good Morning," Martin said. "I started on breakfast. I didn't know if you still ate... But I was hungry so I made enough for the two of us. "

Jon hummed into Martin's shoulder blades. "I think I can..." Jon stretched his neck to see the eggs in the pan. "Where did you get eggs anyways?”

Martin pushed around the scrambled eggs and shifted the sunny side up. Jon wouldn’t take his eyes off the scrambled eggs. “From the market just down the road.”

“The market? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s only about a kilometer away. Maybe two.”

“Martin when do you sleep?!”

Martin scoffed with a smile on his face. “Did  _ I _ sleep? I slept on the train and all through the night. I got up when the sun came up. You’re the one who overslept. I was half convinced you slipped into another comma.”

Jon squeezed Martin even closer. “I didn’t…. I’m still here.”

Martin leaned his head back. “I know…”

They sat at the dining nook to eat, a small table with chairs barely big enough to fit children. They somehow ate the whole breakfast on the surface. It probably helped that Jon held the plate as he ate. They talked through it all, wondering what in the world they could do. Jon decided that he needs a statement, a short one, before any activities.

“There’s a lake around here… I saw it on the map.” Martin offered as Jon rumbled through his bag of statements. “We could go there.”

“To do what?” Jon said as he sat down with a statement about the Flesh. 

“I dunno, anything we like.”

The moment Jon was done with the statement, they were off. Martin had the map out and the compass, pointing expertly in the way of the lake. Jon followed without much thought. He trusted Martin could navigate, and he hated doing it on his own anyway. They walked side by side, close to each other, like they had in bed, their knees knocking into each other like under the table. They bumped into each other awkwardly, and their hands brushed with unpracticed fingers. This was all still so new, Jon wanted to reach for his hand.

“Oh, Jon, look!” Martin called, taking Jon’s attention from Martin’s hand to where it was pointing. Ahead of them, there was a lone cow wandering around. It had a shaggy red coat that reminded Jon of Martin’s hair.

“That’s… That’s a cow.” Jon said, a little shocked. “That’s a real-life cow.” Martin let out a laugh and started to it. “Martin! Where are you going?! It could be feral!”

Martin snorted and raised an eyebrow at Jon. “Really, Jon? A feral cow? What do you think is going to happen?” Martin said as he got ever closer to the cow. The cow itself was looking right at Martin and knew that he was coming.

“It’s a  _ cow _ ! A wild animal! It could, I don’t know, charge at you!” Jon cried and Martin went right up to the thing. It happily chewed on grass as Martin began to pet it.

“Jon. There is no such thing as a wild, feral cow. It’s against everything that is a cow.” Martin assured. “Now come here and pet this cow,” Jon inched towards the cow with his hand extended.

_ Yes, if it knows I’m coming, with my intentions obvious, it won’t charge at me or bite me or- _

Jon’s fingers got lost in the soft red hair as his hand made it to its head. Instinctively, Jon started rubbing its cheeks and under its chin, The Admiral’s favorite spots. The cow reached its head up like The Admiral did, it even tried to move against Jon’s hand like a cat would. 

“Oh,” Jon said, bringing his other hand up to rub both cheeks at once. “Oh, this is a good cow.”

“All cows are good cows, but, yes. This is a  _ very _ good cow.”

After a while of petting, the cow let out a disgruntled moo and moved its head from both of their hands and began to walk away. Jon made a bad joke about how he’d love to have a cat in the house but he wasn’t sure this one would fit. Martin gave him that smile that meant  _ you’re not funny, but I think you’re funny. _ And Jon felt himself go red.

The lake was as perfect as the rest of their little hideaway. It was crystal clear as the air they breathed, hidden in the valley of mountains that surrounded them. They sat near the edge, nowhere near the water, but close enough to feel the cool breeze off of it. There was nothing to watch but the wind in the trees that were scattered along the shore and the clouds up above them. 

Martin had brought a notebook, it looked old and used, something from the old life in the new. He started writing some poetry, inspired by the clean emptiness of this place. Jon had asked Martin for a page and pen as well. He thought he might write something or draw something.

“I didn’t know you drew,” Martin said to him. 

Jon looked at the page, frustrated already. “I used to just… doodle. Nothing serious or good. But I think I might have lost my touch.” Jon said. “I’ve just got ink splotches and now it’s all over my hands and-”

“Jon,” Martin said, softly, and in that way that always got Jon to go quiet. He looked up as Jon, above his glasses and directly into his eyes. “It’s okay not to do anything. You can relax, here.”

Jon’s fingers found the page and started digging a hole in the still-wet ink. “I don’t… I don’t know how to relax?” Jon said with his crooked, exhausted smile. “I don’t think I ever learned and that’s how. Well, that’s how  _ this _ happened.” Jon brought his hands up to frame his face, scarred and with heavy bags from sleep deprivation. 

Martin reached his hand out for Jon to take it. Jon stood to get it, they were just far enough where scooting would have been undignified. Martin took his hand in a tight grasp, then gently pulled him down. Jon folded onto the ground next to Martin. Their sides were pressed together tightly. Jon could feel the pressure of Martin's body and he let out a sigh. He felt so grounded with Martin so close. 

Martin's hand found Jon's back, rubbing small circles into his skin, soothing his anxieties and giving him something else to focus on. Jon could feel the tender gesture as if it was the first time someone had ever touched him. His nerves felt every time Martin’s finger brushed them. Jon had to keep from shivering. His entirety ached for Martin to touch him like that, soft and confident. Like he had been doing this for years. Like  _ they _ had been doing this for years. Jon wanted nothing more than to be covered in Martin’s touch like a blanket over him.

Jon let his head fall to Martin’s shoulder, letting the rest of his muscles slump against him. He let his head spin in a foggy haze. Jon couldn’t  _ see _ here. He was disconnected and distant. Nothing felt severed, just inactive. There was no pain in his separation, not like in America. He wasn’t fighting against any restraints, they were loosened around him. Even then, Martin and his thoughts were quiet next to him. No pressing thoughts of childhood or trauma. Just trees rustling and the occasional toad croaking 

“You gonna fall asleep again?” Martin asked softly. 

“No,” Jon said, unconvincingly groggy. “I just… I’m relaxed.” Jon looked up to Martin. “All thanks to you.”

Martin’s face turned red and he smiled down at Jon. “Happy to do it.” Martin nudged Jon softly. “Look at that sunset.”

Jon looked up at the sun ducking behind the mountains, spilling out colors and filling in the dotting clouds. Purple and blue stained the orange and red sun as night engulfed the day.

“Do you want to head back?” Martin asked. “You never know what’s in the dark.”

Jon shook his head. He didn’t feel any fear in his chest. There was nothing around, at least nothing that could hurt them.

“No… I want to look at the stars for a bit.”

“Alright then.”

Martin’s hand snaked around his body, deliberately and definitively taking Jon’s hand. Jon readjusted, lacing their figures together. He squeezed his hand.

_ We’ll get the hang of this... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! If you liked this! I have so many other fics! I have 2 other TMA fic and I have 11 adventure zones! I also have a Good Omens fic, two Penumbra Podcast fics, Yuri!!! On Ice, Voltron, Miraculous Ladybug, RWBY, Gravity Falls, Star Wars, and Kingsmen fics! Go read those if you're interested! Thank you so much again!


	3. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for eating disorder talk.

Jon dreamed of the stars above him that night. He dreamed of the black sky and its freckled face looming down at him in a blanket. He dreamed about their walk back to the cottage, hand in hand. They talked about how the lake could be endless and they couldn’t sink to the bottom. On their real walk home Martin went on and on about the stars and their patterns and how sailors would use it as a map to find their way home. On their real walk home, Martin pointed to the brightest star in the sky and said  _ That’s Jupiter… If you follow that, it’ll take you home. _ It stayed in perfect view the whole trip back to their cottage. Jon liked his reality better than his dream.

His dream left him restless and tired. In the middle of the night he was awake and frustrated. He sat up and stared at the dark in his lap for a moment to clear his head of the nightmare. 

_ The lake is a trap. The vast, the dark, the lonely, they set it up. The buried pulls people in and the weight of the water- The Hunt has a horror underneath- _

Jon shook his head again, realizing his eyes had closed and he had returned to his nightmare. 

"There's no place for that here." He whispers to himself, quiet, he hopes.

He looked down at Martin, face soft in sleep, and wondered if there were nightmares in his mind too. Jon leaned over and gave Martin a kiss on the top of his head. He thought that was the kindest place to place a kiss. Jon had hoped it warded away any bad dreams that lingered. Jon had wondered that since he was a nightmare himself, if he could ward off others. He wanted to. He wanted to be a good luck charm, or at least a dream catcher for Martin. So their time together might not be so miserable. 

Deep down Jon knew that the fears existed here. They had to. They were everywhere. Which made him uneasy. Why exactly are they letting him have this moment of peace?

Jon shook his head again and tried to banish all thought. No words. Only actions. He looked at Martin again and decided. He lifted up Martin's arm and slid into the Crux between his chest and arms. Jon took a hold of his arm in his own two and sat there to breathe, lulling himself back to sleep. 

  
  
  


When Jon woke up again, it was because the sun was up and Martin was trying to pry his arm away, gingerly. He was trying  _ not  _ to wake him. 

"Oh good, now I won't have to naw my arm off," Martin said with a smile. " You've really got a grip on you."

Jon didn't let go right away. He even squeezed it to his chest harder. "Yes, well, it might be all that monster strength I didn't know I had." Jon released his arm and Martin pulled it away slowly. 

"You can go back to bed. I was just going to make some food." Martin said. He rolled over to the edge of the bed and stretched there, arms above his head and all. His joints popped and his under shirt got pulled up with his arms, showing the small of his back, Jon noticed. 

Jon sat up quickly, to avoid being tempted to do just that. "No, that's alright. I want to be up with you." 

Martin's face burned at the thought. Jon had used him as an alarm clock. Jon wanted to be woken up. Jon wanted to be woken up by  _ him _ . Jon wanted to be awake  _ with him. _ Martin wasn't even sure he noticed his own wording. He just grinned a goofy grin and handed Jon his glasses off the nightstand.

"Alrighty then."

Jon put the glasses on his face. Then scrunched his nose. "Martin."

"Yeah?" He reached for the other pair.

"I don't think these are mine." Jon said, pulling the glasses from his face. "And I thought I was blind."

Martin looked through the glasses in his hand. "Oh, Jon, I haven't had eyes this good since middle school."

They swapped glasses quickly, Martin let out something that could almost classify as a giggle. "Maybe we should look into Lasik." 

"Yes, I think that cow we saw yesterday is the village doctor. We'll have to find her and make an appointment." Jon had a shit eating grin and Martin tried not to laugh at his terrible joke. 

"Let's get a statement and some coffee in you before you make any more awful awful jokes." Martin said.

Jon crawled off the bed and gave a sheepish smile. " I think they just get more long winded the more fed I am."

"Christ we might need to starve you then."

Jon hummed in response, almost sounding like a noise of agreement. But the conversation fell and the humming continued. Martin started a pancake recipe he knew off hand and Jon took to figuring out how to use a French press. He was so used to instant coffee and on the shelf creamer. Brewed coffee and fresh cream was never something he thought he had.

"You'll have to leave it for 15 minutes, the press down." Martin offered.

"And it just floats there till then?"

"It just floats there till then."

Jon scrunched his nose up again. "Odd. Id never peg you as a foodie either."

Martin laughed a full-bellied laugh. " Look at me," Martin placed a hand on his stomach. " Of course I'd be a foodie." Jon's gaze followed Martin's hand as he pat his stomach.

He then looked down, muttering something to himself.

Martin raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Jon, I missed that last bit." He said. A genuine curiosity at what he had said.

Jon cleared his throat loudly and shook his hair out. Martin could see Jon's cheeks start to burn in a dark blush. "I have always thought you were rather handsome, Martin, stomach included in that. And I don't appreciate the attempt at self degradation, especially at the expense of something that I find perfectly, um… comforting."

Martin knew he was as red as a tomato. He had been getting better about his body image. He didn't hate the sight of his body as much as he used to. Martin had spent so many hours in front of mirrors squeezing away what he didn't want. He had tried so many diets and fads and counted so many calories he had made himself sick. The moment he decided he loved food and that he didn't care what anyone thought was the moment he started to get better. And of course he had slip ups, like this moment. 

And yet there was Jon. A man who couldn't put on weight to save his life, a man whose profile was strong and his brows neatly manicured even though Martin knew he didn't know they existed. A man who brought so many people back from parts unknown. Then man who anchored him to this world. The man who brought him back from the Cliff's edge. He was standing there in a kitchen they shared, blushing, and telling Martin that he adored the thing Martin hated most about himself. Jon was a man Martin never thought could love him back. And yet. 

"I wasn't… I wasn't  _ trying _ to self degrade… but it's nice to know you like the way I look." Martin said. 

Jon's face burned even hotter and scrunched like he ate something sour. "Of  _ course _ I like the way you look. H-How could I not? You're my- we're-," Jon swallowed hard. "We've run away to Scotland together, Martin."

Martin shrugged. "I wasn't sure. With the whole… you've never… I just didn't want to make any sort of assumption."

"I can find people attractive, thank you very much. I have  _ eyes _ ." Jon said, a little too quickly. It was a rehearsed response. He was used to defending his sexuality. He was used to explaining himself. "I just don't feel any sexual urges. Not normally…" Jon caught Martin's eye and his tongue began to twist. "I-I can though- I have- I've just never- no one's ever-"

" You don't need to explain yourself to me," Martin said. Jon went quiet. "I just like you, Jon. I wasn't expecting anything when I ran away to Scotland with you. I just wanted to be with you. Whatever that means."

It took everything in Jon's power to look up from the floor. Eye contact was hard on a normal day and now  _ this _ . But he lifted his gaze to meet Martin's soft hazel eyes. "T-Thank you, Martin. I… the last person who was so easy going about the whole thing was Georgie. And since then I really haven't attempted...anything. I-I am happy to… I'm happy to have run away to Scotland with you."

Martin smiles at him, a soft comforting smile that made Jon melt a bit. "Let's sit down."

Martin took his pancakes and Jon pressed the coffee down. They sat at their tiny table, their knees not knocking together, but resting on each other. Jon had a pancake but was much more engrossed in his statement and coffee. He tried to read it silently, like the morning paper, but his voice ended up rumbling out. Martin tried not to listen. 

"Do you want to go to the village today?" Martin asked as they got dressed. "They've got little shops and even an art gallery or two."

A chill ran down Jon's spine as he thought about the tiny buildings and the decent bustle of people who needed to go shopping before their child comes home from school, or the lazy lingering stroll of people with no where to be. The thought of people made his skin prickle and his heart rate start up.

"N-Not today, if that's alright." Jon said. "I think being cooped up might do me some good." He reached over to the small shelf in their nightstand. " I've been staring at this book for three days and I thought I'd give it a read today."

It was gold in color with a red title.  _ A Sportsman's Guide to Trapping and Skinning.  _ Martin squinted at the delicate writing. 

"That's certainly a Daisy book, isn't it?"

"I think it's got something to do with The Hunt… looks it at least." 

Martin's eyebrows knitted together. "Jon, are you sure its alright to be reading stuff like that?"

"I'll be alright, Martin. I'll let you know if I get a little too...excited about the book." Jon chuckled. " And I trust you to take it away from me and burn it if I start talking about all the things we could kill in the mountains."

Martin rolled his eyes. "I think I can take you."

"Hunt powers and all?"

"Whatever powers you have, they're no match for me."

The sofa was decidedly not for two people. Not two full sized adults, at least. Though, Jon and Martin made it work. Jon sprawled out on the couch, his limbs spilling over the edges, draped every which way. His book was placed perfectly in front of his eyes. Martin, after some convincing from Jon,  _ it's alright, I want you to _ , was laying completely on top of Jon. He was sure that Jon was crushed under his weight but Jon smiled contently and assured him it was alright.  _ I like the weight _ . Martin's head was tucked between the Crux of Jon's arm in a light choke hold. Jon used Martin's head as a stand for his book, with his blessing. 

And there they sat until the dim light strained their eyes. Jon refused to admit he could no longer see the page. He refused to give Martin an excuse to get up. Martin, though, had long since fallen asleep on Jon. He was so comfortable. So safe. 

That night didn't have any nightmares of lakes or entities following them. Jon fell asleep under the protection of Martin. He had hoped to be Martin's dream catcher, it never crossed his mind that Martin might be his as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! If you liked this! I have so many other fics! I have 11 adventure zones! I also have a Good Omens fic, two Penumbra Podcast fics, Yuri!!! On Ice, Voltron, Miraculous Ladybug, RWBY, Gravity Falls, Star Wars, and Kingsmen fics! Go read those if you're interested! Thank you so much again!


End file.
